by Alison Aimes
“If 223 comes and we confirm that he’s still following his usual pattern, we’ll have the beginnings of a workable plan. Not to mention there’s the possibility that Grif may get us something equally as useful.”
The injured gang member had finally woken up and Ryker’s friend had immediately dragged the man off for interrogation.
“If anyone can make the man talk, it’s Grif.” Confidence laced Ryker’s voice. “The man is the best among our crew at extracting information.”
She didn’t doubt it.
She knew Grif was determined to find all the missing slaves, and especially those who might be connected to the Resistance. She knew, too, he was on the side of good. But there’d been something so cold and brutal in his expression as he’d left with the gang member that the hairs on the back of her neck rose in alarm, the same way they did when an especially dangerous predator was near.
A sudden end to the screeching below drew her attention.
The fight had ended. Like before, the victor dragged the body of his opponent to a deep crevice in the cave floor and flung it over the edge while the others cheered and pounded their chests. Like before, the sound of a body hitting the ground never came. The pit appeared to go on forever. No question they’d have to be very careful about that crevice when they returned.
“If only they’d all kill themselves and save us the trouble,” remarked Ryker, his gaze tracking the men as they drifted away into other tunnels, his desire to follow as palpable as her own.
She offered a nod of agreement.
“You don’t think the operative will tell 223 about us?” Per usual, it was Ryker who once more broke the silence.
The familiar pattern loosened some of the tension from her shoulders. “Not out of the goodness of his heart.” She kept her voice as low as he had. “But if he warns the gang leader, it will only put 223 more on guard and make it harder for the operative to sneak in and steal the weapon. Plus, he’s arrogant, too. Certain his ways are more effective than ours. That will be his greatest weakness.”
Ryker squeezed her hand. “He has no idea the strength that comes from being part of a team.”
Everything seemed to just stop for a moment and hang suspended: precious, perfect joy.
She’d never had that before him.
“Ryker—”
He cut her off, as if he knew the direction of her thoughts. “There’ll be plenty more good moments for us, Jade. I refuse to let it be any other way.”
Her heart kicked against her ribs. “I want that, too.” But…
“At the settlement, there’ll be plenty of time to make friends. I think you’ll like the Commander’s woman, Ava. She’s strong and fierce, too.”
He’d been talking a lot about the future since she’d fallen into the damn hole, spinning tales, his voice filled with excitement. She should have known it would be like this. Once he let himself, he’d embraced the idea of them together with the same reckless, wild fierceness as he did everything else, logic and rational thinking be damned.
“Just don’t get your hopes up. Even if we do somehow find a way to deactivate the nano-bomb and I return with you, your crew may not like me.” Just the thought of meeting them made her sweat more than any of her hardest missions to date.
“They will.”
“You know how I am.”
“I know you’re terrific.”
Her lips twitched upward. Would she ever get used to his easy compliments? “I…I’m not good with people. I’m too used to being alone.”
“You just haven’t had much practice,” he argued in a low whisper. “All it will take is some time. And you’re not bad with people. Look at how well you and I have begun to get along.”
“You’re an asshole. The fact that I can get along with you is probably not a point in my favor.”
He laughed quietly, just as she’d hoped he would. “I may be out of practice, but I still remember how it’s done. I’ll show you. A few good deeds here and there won’t wreck my grouchy rep.”
She just shook her head.
“When this is over, you’re coming back with me to meet the crew.” He returned her hard stare with one of his own. “At least give it a try. If not for yourself, then for Rafi, Marika, Melody, and Hope. They’ll need you there.” His gaze locked with hers, letting her see all he felt. “And they’re not the only ones. I need you, too.”
Warmth flared, but the look she gave him was pure ice. “Do not think I am not fully aware of your manipulation.”
“But it’s still working, right?”
“Perhaps.”
“I know just how to press your buttons.” Voice low, he crawled closer. “All those buttons.” He rubbed his chin against her shoulder.
She let him. “You are ridiculous.” Still, she wondered how she’d ever thought what she’d done before meeting him could be called living?
“But accurate.” He threw his arm around her.
“Yes.” Breathing him in, she melted into his hold, enjoying the warm heat of his skin pressed against every part of her own. Managing this whole business of fluttering sensations without acting foolish was next to impossible. “Extremely accurate. Especially with that tongue.”
That drew another low chuckle from him, but then his expression sobered. “They will love you, Jade.” He brushed his lips against her own. Gentleness from her fierce warrior. “But if you don’t like being there, we’ll leave and build our own damn settlement.” His mischievous grin returned. “Full of peace, quiet—and full-time nudity.”
She tried to return the smile. Each time she threw up a potential obstacle, he tore it down. It almost made her believe.
His playful expression slipped away. “I’m serious, Jade. You don’t like it, we’ll find our own place.”
“I’d never ask that of you. I—”
He didn’t let her finish. “Jade, I don’t know if we’ll decide to live in the settlement or on the outskirts. Take a shuttle and explore surrounding planets or stay on Dragath25 forever. Live on our own and never speak to another soul or spend every rotation with Tyson and his daughters and all the people we rescued. Don’t know. Don’t care. What I do know is I’m more than willing to take it one step at a time as long as you’re with me. Kids, no kids. Crew, no crew. Just be with me and I’ll have my family, my home.”
Her heart swelled. “I can’t imagine anything better. All I want is you.”
How strange and illogical that she, who’d come to this planet thinking it would bring about her end, had found a new beginning.
After so long alone, she had a chance for a family, a true purpose—and a future with a man who saw her dark and her light, her flaws and her strengths, and liked her as she was. A man who made her feel as if she’d finally found a home.
Could that truly be possible for someone like her, after all?
Her gaze dropped to the dark lines of the dagger tattoo at her wrist, a reminder that wishing and longing only went so far.
“Line up. Now.” The crack of a whip scorched the air, jerking her from her thoughts.
Ten dirt-covered, too-thin forms stumbled into view, their stooped shoulders and lowered gazes marking them as slaves as much as any of their bruises.
Almost zombielike, these poor souls fell into two lines, pushed and prodded and shoved by two burly gang members who delighted in exercising their power.
According to Marika, these slaves were the unfortunate ones chosen that evening to serve as 223’s and his favorite guards’ entertainment. The rest would be caged in the sleeping pen.
Within moments, the captives were manacled to the wall.
Rage burned a path from the base of Jade’s skull to her heels, the urge to leap down and slide her knife through the men brutalizing those people hard to control. But she did. By reminding herself they would have their justice in the end. She would make sure of it.
A low growl had her gaze flickering right. Deep lines cleaved Ryker’s face, too.
Her hand crept toward his. “Soon,” she whispered.
He turned his palm over in her hold. Threaded their fingers together.
They were clutching each other’s palms like a lifeline when a new group appeared.
Arranged in the middle of a diamond cluster, with the blond operative Caleb in front, another guard in the back, and two more on the sides, was the man for whom they’d been waiting. The man behind all the depravity: 223. His weapon, unfortunately, was nowhere to be seen.
Thin and wiry, with silver hair, the leader of Dragath25’s most notorious gang looked as far from a grave threat as one could get. He was average in height with stooped shoulders and ruffled, unkept hair that stood up at the ends. Altogether, the effect was more professorial than gangmate. But Jade knew from experience that such looks were deceiving.
Monsters often lurked beneath a harmless façade.
“Those two for tonight.” Wasting no time, 223 pointed toward two slaves near the front, his voice as precise and eerily dignified as she remembered. “I’ll need more bodies for my next test as well. Some of these should be included.”
Wails arose from the slaves, but they were cut short by the crack of the whip. In the ensuing eerie silence, the captives were unchained, separated into three different groups, and hustled with horrifying efficiency from the room, 223 and his cadre of guards following behind.
The sudden emptiness in the cavern was jarring. The air still saturated with horror and cruelty, singeing Jade’s nostrils as she tried to catch her breath. Guilt pressing down on her like heavy Dragath stone.
How could she sit here and do nothing while those people suffered? But to act without planning would mean defeat.
She had to believe that soon those captives would be free and safe, 223 would be dead, his weapon destroyed. Soon the people of New Earth and Dragath25 would be out of the worst of the danger.
It had been far simpler when she had not had emotion to cloud her logic. But the warm press of the palm squeezing hers to the point of near pain was all the reminder she needed to know that it was worth it.
“We have no choice.” Her voice was a rough rasp.
“I know.”
But one look at Ryker and she knew they would both never be the same. Today had cost them.
Gripping his hand tighter, she wriggled back deeper into the shadows to wait until the way was clear for them to move to another checkpoint.
Next time they returned, it would be for a reckoning.
34
“Where have you been?” Grif met them at the entrance to the cave. His hair was matted and standing on end, his usually golden skin, pale—which made the streaks of blood splattered across his chest and thighs all the more prominent.
Ryker, foolishly protective as ever, stepped in front of her. “The main cavern and tunnels are both high traffic areas. It took a while to sneak out undetected. But we did confirm Marika’s intel and we did figure out a way to get to that bastard and the slaves.”
There was no missing Grif’s flinch.
“What’s wrong?” Her nape prickled in alarm. “Where are the others?”
Grif looked lost, even afraid.
No answer.
“Grif?” Ryker snapped his fingers. “Jade asked you a question.”
The man shook his head as if to clear it. “Inside. I told the others to remain there for the time being.”
Relief settled in her chest. The others were safe. “What happened with the interrogation? Is the man still alive?”
“Yes.”
Her confusion grew.
“Grif?” Ryker’s voice was sharper this time, his growing concern obvious, too. “Being in 223’s hideout was hell. Jade and I are already on edge. Tell us what’s going on. We can’t help you unless we know.”
“It can’t be…and yet…” Grif swallowed, his gaze darting between the two of them. “I…I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Just spit it out.” Ryker’s arm looped around her waist. She didn’t know if it was intended to comfort him or her, but she pressed herself tighter against him anyway. “Dragging it out isn’t making it any easier.”
Grif closed his eyes. When he opened them, the sadness in their depths stole her breath.
“Ryker, there’s a chance your wife and son are still alive.”
“Wh-what are you talking about?” Ryker’s voice was thick with shock.
“They could be on this very planet. Slaves. Inside the hideout you just left.”
There were two sharp delineations in Jade’s universe. One before Grif spoke, the other after.
Reeling, she struggled to make sense of what had just happened to her world.
“You’re mistaken.” Ryker stood stock-still.
“Maybe. But maybe not.” Grif hunched further into himself. “You heard yourself from Rufus how many Resistance soldiers and their families were imprisoned here. There’s a chance Saralynee and your son are among them.”
Ryker launched himself at his friend, his grip white-knuckling around the other man’s shoulders, his voice a rasp of bewilderment and pain. “Why would you say such a thing? Why?”
Grif didn’t fight back. A stain of blood pooled beneath the bandage at his stomach.
“Calm down.” Jade slid between the two bigger men, using her body to send Ryker staggering back. Turning to face him, she did her best to pierce the wild daze that curtained his gaze. “You need to calm down and hear what Grif has to say.”
Her felon’s chest still heaved, but he’d gone still. His pupils shrunk to pinpoints as he locked on his friend. “Talk.”
Grif ran a hand down his shadowed jaw. “The gang member I’m interrogating, he…he told me more about 223’s deal with the Council to get slaves. He didn’t want to at first, but I can be very persuasive.” Haunted eyes met hers. “I won’t rest until I know they’re all safe.”
She understood. He’d had a firsthand taste of their hell.
“Grif…” Ryker’s choked sound was a plea, a warning.
“I asked about all the slaves, but I was focused on our Resistance brothers and sisters, especially, and”—Grif’s voice shook—“I wanted to know if any of our crew’s kin had been rounded up after our trial and sent here, like what happened with Marika. I thought…I thought the team would want to know. Need to know. I knew whatever I found would be hard to handle, but”—he swallowed hard—“I never imagined this.”
“Janus, no.” Ryker stumbled, then sank to his knees.
Grif followed, tears in his eyes. “Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Down the rabbit hole I went. Because it turns out our prisoner not only remembers when our team were sent here and imprisoned in the mines, but the corresponding arrival only a few rotations later of another shipment of prisoners sent by Council. All known to have ties to the Resistance. All said to be related to the recently imprisoned team and specifically designated by the Council for use by 223 and his men.”
Ryker leaned to the side and heaved, his big body shuddering in horror while Grif pressed his palms to his eyes as if he could shut out what his words were doing to his friend.
She forced steel into her tone. “Keep talking. Now is not the time to fall apart.”
“She’s right.” Ryker’s voice was little more than a rasp. “Tell me the rest. Tell me why you think my wife and child are here when you watched, right alongside me, as Saralynee was raped and tortured and broken.”
Grif looked away. “The bastard we imprisoned was fond of breaking in new slaves and, as one of the top guards, he traveled around from pen to pen quite a bit. Testing out the new merchandise. Keeping them in line. Awarding certain guards their own slaves.” Grif pulled something from the pouch strapped to his thigh. “He also liked to keep trinkets.”
She held her breath. Ryker had gone stock-still.
Grif didn’t look up as his fingers sifted through the tangled pile of small artifacts until he paused, took a breath, and, pinching a frayed strand of leather between forefinger an
d thumb, held up something small and brown. “This was among them.”
The choked sound from the man she loved drove home that what she was seeing was real.
A figurine. Almost an identical match to the one Ryker wore.
His trembling hand reached for it, but drew back before his fingertips connected, his hand gripping the one around his neck like a lifeline instead. “I…I made that for Saralynee when we learned we were having a son. A matching set. One for her, one for me.”
“I know,” whispered Grif. “I was there the night you gave it to her. The night you told us the good news.”
Ryker threw back his head and roared, the sound sheer agony. “We were told they were dead. Shown video of their rapes. Murder. I saw Saralynee screaming in pain. Saw the light go out in her eyes.”
“Video can be doctored. The Council—”
“No.” Ryker shook his head, rejecting his friend’s words. “It can’t be.”
She understood. To consider he’d given them up as dead while they’d been alive and suffering was a possibility too awful to bear.
Though it might well need to be faced.
“You said yourself you never actually saw her die.” Her voice was no-nonsense, as cool as his was rough. “That they cut the stream before the final blow. Until we know for sure, we cannot assume anything.”
Ryker’s spine snapped straight as he pushed himself to standing, his gaze never once seeking hers. “Take me to the bastard.”
Grif wasted no time. “This way.”
She didn’t follow.
35
Eyes staring at nothing, Ryker squatted in the dirt. He rubbed his hands. Let the liquid from the bottle wash away the blood and tissue.
He’d learned little more from the gang member than Grif already had, but it hadn’t been for lack of trying. Still, what he’d heard had only increased his sense of horror.
He shuddered. Shuddered again.
Footsteps sounded at his back. He didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. It was taking everything he had to just stay upright.
Was he a coward for being relieved the tread behind was heavy rather than light and graceful?
